


Gatorland

by wingedbears



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alligators & Crocodiles, Fluff, Gen, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, bros being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: Dean is like an alligator, now that I think about it.  For tumblr user cherryblake





	Gatorland

Sam looks up from his research: Spring Heeled Jack apparently was a demon, and likes to travel. Now he’s in Florida. Well, was. They killed him last night, but this morning another woman called in a death at the swamp. 

Dean is grumbling, because “It’s not the beach, it’s not even freakin’ Disney World!” and is now laying on the bed flipping through channels while the ancient AC unit blows over them, desperately trying to keep up with the heat. 

Sam is looking up because Dean is now pulling out the drawer to the nightstand and looking through the tourist pamphlets. They are falling apart at the creases, and Dean sits up, and the front page to something tears off. “Dude. Gators.” He looks at Sam pleadingly. 

Sam rolls his eyes and opens a new tab. “I’m not going to Gatorland with you, Dean,” he says, pointedly backspacing and glaring. 

Dean lets out a huge sigh, and Sam can feel it coming: the exasperation of waiting is hard for Dean. He’s never learned about patience being a virtue, he just wants it done now. “Why don’t you go?” Sam suggests. It’ll get Dean out of his hair for a while anyway.

Dean squints at him, dubious of the offer. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to figure out why there’s activity even after we ganked a demon on the world’s slowest wifi. I don’t know if I can listen to another Happy Days rerun right now.” Then Sam gets an idea. A terrible idea. He keeps typing, even though it’s just keyboard smashing, and says, as casual as possible, “Why don’t you take Castiel?”

The room seems to go silent, even the canned laughter on the cathode tube tv set. 

“Whatever,” Dean says, and walks out into the heat. But Sam saw him pull out his cell from his back pocket.

Castiel and Dean kissed. Last month, but they did. Sam unfortunately saw it, and Sam has been very gracious in not bringing the moment up. His brother is begrudgingly bisexual and is finally coming to terms with it. Sam loves him, but Sam is his brother, so it’s his sovereign right to tease him and threaten Cas (as much good as it would do). But he also respects Dean’s privacy and penchant for closing up like a clam when emotions come into play. It’s a delicate balance. 

So Sam searches away in the dry, cool air of the hotel room while Dean is gone. Sam comes up with either witches, or possibly a swamp siren, either which will have Dean grumbling again. It’s been two hours so Sam is taking a small break, walking around the lot in the miserable and wet heat outside, eating almonds. 

He pours a handful out, and hears the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine. He walks back to the shaded patio, where the coke machine from the eighties and the ice machine, thankfully more updated, resides. He waits for a moment, sweating and is about to make his loop again when the engine stops and the car door opens. Twice. 

Sam’s eyes widen. Holy cow, his brother went on a date.

He listens in, trying to look like he’s calmly eating almonds and not being the little brother who wants to know all the details. It might be a little of both. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Sam hears Castiel say, the deep and serious voice almost hard to hear over the hum of the vending machines. “I enjoyed looking at God’s creations with you.”

There’s a huff, Dean is probably rolling his eyes, and then: “No problem. I had a good time.” 

“As did I. Alligators are fascinating creatures.”

“They can really rip a chicken up, that’s for sure,” Dean replies, and Sam slowly peeks out from the corner. Dean’s back is too him, and Cas is looking at him with soft eyes. Castiel reaches out a hand and places it on Dean’s face. 

Dean’s shoulders move, his head tilted and moves into Cas’s space. They kiss, briefly. When they pull away, Sam pops the rest of the nuts in his mouth and stomps out from the patio. Dean jerks out to look behind him, his face flushed. Dean would blame it on the heat. But Sam knows better. 

“How was Gatorland?” Sam asks, pulling out the keycard from his pocket. 

“Incredible,” Cas says with no irony. “Did you know that alligators can climb? And have a predisposition towards fidelity.”

Sam did not know that. “Huh,” he says succinctly, and pops open the door. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, but you missed out on your chance, so there,” Dean says.

“Oh I didn’t want to interrupt,” Sam says slyly, back turned so he won’t see the force of Dean’s glare. 

“Nothing happened until the parking lot,” Cas informed Sam, picking up the torn pamphlet from earlier. “Dean is a gentleman.”

Sam looks around to see Dean flushing red and glaring at Cas this time. “So what did you find out, Sam?” Dean asks, unsubtle in turning the subject back to the case. 

“That you’re a gentleman, and alligators can climb,” Sam says, smirking. 

Dean frowns mightily. “You’re pushing it Sam.”

“Sorry,” Sam lies. He smiles. “Can’t I be happy you’re happy?” he asks, too serious for the moment. 

Dean looks down, and then clears his throat and looks at Sam. “Yeah. It’s alright.” The corner of his mouth tugs up. He doesn’t say that he’s glad that Sam is happy too, but Sam knows, because that’s all Dean has ever wanted for him. And all Sam has ever wanted for Dean. Happiness.


End file.
